


price of darkness

by smarky



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Bullet Club Watanabe Takaaki | Evil, Fix-It, Heel Turns, Heels In Love, M/M, NJPW Dominion 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarky/pseuds/smarky
Summary: Evil feels sick from more than just pain when Sanada low blows him. There's something off about it, a distraction Evil doesn't need.
Relationships: Sanada Seiya/Watanabe Takaaki | EVIL
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	price of darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yesterdaydances](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesterdaydances/gifts).



> gov dni

Evil feels sick from more than just pain when Sanada low blows him. There's something off about it, a distraction Evil doesn't need. 

It doesn't end up mattering, though, because Sanada wasn’t even competent enough to get rid of the referee first. Sanada has just laid down the challenge for his titles, and it’s as if things are already over for him. For most people losing by disqualification would mean they didn’t care if they won or lost, but Sanada always cares. He just got sloppy. He lets people think that he’s stoic, but his emotions always got the better of him.

It’s hard to pull himself up-- under the pain blurring his vision Evil can see Sanada walking towards him, ignoring the Young Lions grabbing at his shirt. A boot presses down on his chest, crushing down into his heart and twisting. It doesn’t feel like it’s over. 

“What a reaction you got out there! They must have thought that Sanada was better than this. And you proved them wrong.” Jay has much to say as always. 

After Evil doesn’t respond, his face falls. Dealing with him is almost so easy it gets boring.

“His face was completely blank when he hit you...maybe he would be a good fit for us, too.” 

“No. Haven’t you watched him? The only reason he’s doing this is to try to throw us off. He’ll be back to normal as soon as this is over.” Evil rolls the band down his wrist and loops it around his hair. “His little heart couldn’t take it if it were anyone but me.”

The first time Evil had gotten ready to leave a show with the rest of Bullet Club, Gedo had offered to help him braid his hair back. He probably had wanted to show he wasn’t biased towards the other “co-leader”. Evil slapped Gedo across the face and told everyone that they weren’t to touch him like that, ever. Some things were too much of a reminder. There was only one person who had ever done that for him. He didn’t need any reason to start overthinking his decisions. Evil was better than that. 

It made his stomach churn, thinking about that low blow. Did Sanada want him to feel betrayed, to feel like he was in Sanada’s position back then? It wasn’t like him. This wasn’t his style. Well, pain changes people. That’s never something comfortable to think about. 

Interviews, work-outs, and parties blend together. Everything is just waiting for the next fight. It’s what he’s always wanted, to see trepidation on someone’s face as he raises the belt above his head, to feel like a king as no one moves to stop him from whipping that belt down across their chest. Success is a weapon. 

But this is Sanada he’s fighting now. There isn’t much Evil has hidden from him. So instead of the belt reaching its target, Sanada ducks under, runs to the ropes-- Evil whirls around just in time to eat a dropkick. He rolls out of the ring to catch his breath. Another kick thrusts into his back, throwing him to his knees. The crowd is roaring. On another person, Sanada’s face would probably be flushed with anger.

“What the hell are you doing?” growls Evil. Sanada has a firm grip on his arm, tugging him across the Korakuen Hall floor, and none of Evil’s struggling is working. Evil manages to snag his around the railing. Finally Sanada stops, and fuck, another blow straight on his dick. 

Evil is dragged down the halls. It’s beginning to feel like this match will end without a resolution too by the time he manages to struggle loose and drive Sanada onto the floor. Sanada wipes the dirt from his cheek and then shoves him to the wall, elbow across his throat. 

“I’m like you,” Sanada whispers. “I always have been, don’t you understand?”

Has the camera caught up with them yet? 

“You’re not. You don’t know anything,” says Evil. He probably didn’t need to say anything, his body language must already say it all. But something in Sanada’s eyes is compelling him to speak, to slip in closer. He’ll look weak if the camera sees this. Snap out of it. 

Evil knees him in the stomach, once, twice. Sanada tries not to let go of him, but there’s no stopping Evil. He doesn’t bother brushing the hair out of his face as he stamps on Sanada’s back. 

When they’re in the ring again, it feels like they’re back to normal, but when Evil runs in with a bronco buster, Sanada clocks him across the head with some piece of metal the moment it hits. It drops onto the floor outside the ring with an obvious clang. He’s trying to prove something to Evil, but why? Is losing to Los Ingobernables supposed to make him feel better about leaving them? 

“I’m never going to forget about you.” That’s all Sanada says in his comments on the match. It’s immensely frustrating. 

The Sanada that Evil has been fighting lately is Sanada, and yet isn’t. He never would have acted this way towards someone he hated, it probably would have made him feel like he couldn’t beat them “on his own merit”. Naito always had to suggest it to get him to cheat at all. 

“Oh, someone bought this wine for you,” the bartender says at the hotel. “It’s called ‘I Chose Darkness’. Would you like it?” 

Evil downs it because savouring it must be what that person wants. Who is he kidding, it’s fucking Sanada. He always used to do this when he was too busy to meet Evil in person. 

This kind of mind game is too sophisticated for him. Would he really pretend he wanted to become a heel for Evil just to beat him? That he’d throw everything away just to be with him, the same way Evil threw him away for… 

What nobody in Bullet Club knows is that Evil still has Sanada’s number tucked away in his memory even if he’s deleted it from his phone. This kind of distracting situation is exactly what he’s been waiting for. 

Evil doesn’t miss how quickly Sanada picks up. “What makes you think I’d let you into Bullet Club?” 

The silence on the other end is almost mocking. “...You’re not happy.” 

It’s true. That was never the goal. Keeping Sanada around wasn’t either. “Wrestlers don’t have that luxury.” 

“I think we could.” Sanada’s voice, warm against his ear. “But not in Bullet Club.”

“Then what bullshit are you trying to say?” 

“You can be yourself, around me. Around them. I’ll do anything to make that happen.” That’s a dark tone Evil hasn’t heard in a long time. 

“Well, I won’t let you,” Evil says, in the toughest voice he can manage. He clicks off the call. Just hearing Sanada talk was enough to show he was serious. 

What has he done to Sanada? So Sanada wants to become a heel, and make everyone in their life accept him back. Make them let him treat them however he wants, even. In what way does that equal happiness? Who is Sanada now? 

Some part of Evil, the part of his mind that drifts far away right before sleep, had always travelled to a decade or so from now when their careers were winding down. And it thought, I could get back together with him then, he wouldn’t be so upset with me anymore, and I wouldn’t have anything to lose. But that’s no longer possible, is it. Because Sanada isn’t here anymore. Evil made him into something else, and if he’s not the man Evil loved, then there’s no point. 

He didn’t feel that much guilt when he hurt them. Not much in the moments leading up to it, or in the moments when they screamed at him and looked at him with eyes shimmering with tears. All he had wanted was to stop feeling like dirt, and no one would take that away from him. Sanada is taking that away from him and Evil feels nothing but guilt when he should be feeling hatred. All he can make himself do to stem the self-hatred building up is order more wine. It’s pathetic. 

One of the advantages of Bullet Club is that you’re allowed to have feelings. You just can’t let them get in the way of work, and Evil doesn’t. His strategy is to stop cheating, and make Sanada adapt again so he’s not stuck in the middle of their title match with his heart turned on. 

It takes a couple of matches, but it seems like it works. Sanada can just not forget about him without shoving his delusions at Evil. And once the tour is over, Evil can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist. 

A tall man in a black peacoat with a black beanie and scarf covering his face and hair is lingering around the Bullet Club locker room. Evil tells the other members to leave him alone, then goes outside and rips the scarf off. It’s Sanada, and he’s smiling a little. Evil frowns down at his own black t-shirt and black sweatpants. 

“Are you trying to get killed?”

“I’m trying to talk with you.” 

“You shouldn’t,” says Evil, and then realizes he should have started beating Sanada up by now. Just looking at him is making Evil feel guilty again, so he really should, but… is that footsteps? 

Evil glances to the next hallway. Sanada nods and they start walking together, away from immediate sight by anyone in the Club. Evil will just stick around long enough to convince him his dreams won’t work, and then the feelings will stop. He’s already taken his wine, and called him, so there’s no point in pretending he isn’t interested in Sanada anymore. 

“The tactics aren’t what’s important, are they?” says Sanada. 

Evil shrugs. “I’ll do whatever, as long as I win.” 

“Then you should win all the time.” 

“How flattering. Why did I lose so much before I joined Bullet Club?”

“You had no confidence. No one was standing behind you.” 

“Yeah, that’s how Los Ingos works. But not Bullet Club, so I’m successful now. What’s your point?”

“You haven’t noticed how much you changed us?” Sanada leans in. “We communicate all the time now. You wouldn’t feel ignored for a second.”

Evil chokes on a scoff. “I don’t believe that.” He can’t believe that. That what he had wanted for so long would only exist after he had chosen not to have it. No self-respecting person would go back now, or be wanted back now, anyway. 

“What will it take?” 

Sanada’s so earnest. Talking things out doesn’t automatically solve all your problems. He can’t fix things just by smiling at Evil and throwing out offers like a consman. Evil’s not the guy that always gives into what Sanada wants anymore. 

Sanada takes out his phone, tapping it a few times, and then hands it to Evil. Their fingers brush a moment too long. 

“Look. They all know I’m here with you right now. They helped me talk to you.”

It’s… that’s certainly what these messages look like. Seeing Hiromu’s emojis is making something sharp in his chest stab out again. 

Evil shakes his head. “It’s too late. I have responsibilities now.” 

He hands the phone back. Sanada’s palms are hot and sweaty. “Well,” Sanada mumbles. He looks like an actor caught forgetting his lines, waiting for the audience to turn on him. “I’m glad that you’re… still you.” 

“Can I be selfish?” The words tumble out of Evil’s mouth. They’re ridiculous. Of course he can, he’s selfish every day. But this is something new. 

Sanada nods.

They’re closer to the Los Ingos room now. Any of them could walk out and see them when Evil tilts Sanada’s chin down and kisses him. 

Sanada always held gestures of affection to his chest, but not Evil. He’s greedy. He wants to devour every part of Sanada, and getting Sanada kicked out of his home won’t stop him, not now that he’s started. And maybe Sanada’s okay with that. He’s kissing back, chasing Evil’s lips whenever he pulls back, gently holding onto his hair. 

“Can you be mine?” Evil says against his cheek. “Can I hurt you, and you’ll still be mine whenever we’re alone?” 

“You are greedy,” Sanada says, and pushes him back so he can kiss Evil again. That’s not an answer. This whole thing has been a disaster from the start, but Evil keeps doing it anyway. Before Sanada might have thought Evil would turn good for him, but not now. Sanada knows he’s a piece of shit and he still wants him. Evil’s yanking him down to his level and he doesn’t even care.

Evil steps back, leans against the wall. He feels dazed. “We need to stop. I’m not doing this with you when things are just going to go back to normal.” 

“Those guys you don’t even like. That’s normal now.” 

“I’m not leaving the faction that I lead, Sanada.”

“Why? Haven’t I told you that you can lead me?” Sanada is just one person. He can’t give Evil everything. Evil is supposed to already have everything. 

“You don’t really want that. It’s not fun for me if you’re pretending.” 

“But I don’t hate you. I don’t even want you to lose Bullet Club.” There’s a tinge of frustration in his voice now. He pulls out his phone again. “You-- just listen.” 

“He needs to be taught a lesson,” says Jay’s voice. When did Sanada record this? “He doesn’t really have our best interests in mind, does he? He’s in it for himself and that’s all. Well, after Sanada--”

“I already know,” says Evil. Sanada shuts it off. He’s pretty sure they’ve tried to murder him twice already. If you’re going to be the leader in this kind of place, you have to be prepared for usurpation attempts.

“Then you know...the only way you can have Bullet Club is with me. With us.” 

“Wait, you were… trying to recreate Bullet Club? The whole point is they don’t have…” He gestures between them. “This. There.” 

That kind of weird, poorly thought-out plan is perfectly Sanada. He went at it with full force the way he does everything, then forgot his trump card recording until after he made out with the target. Evil starts to laugh a little. 

Sanada takes his hand. “I figured now that you’ve won and you’ve had some time at the top, the only thing keeping you there is your pride. Don’t you want to come back?”

“No,” Evil says immediately. “I can’t play second fiddle again. I won’t.”

“We all miss you. Even Naito.”

“Fucking Naito.” He would, wouldn’t he. 

“How about we all go out to dinner? If anyone doesn’t like it, they can just leave.”

“I… I don’t know.” It would be easier to pretend none of this ever happened. But the thought of that leaves Evil feeling hollowed out, every part of him emptied onto the floor. 

“Okay.” Sanada brushes some of Evil’s hair behind his ear. It should feel like his old life, but it doesn’t. They were never desperate or passionate enough to do this on the floor of a sports center. 

There is something tempting about saying fuck you to his current life as much as his old one, and blooming into something with the best of both. This time he controls his own destiny. Does he deserve to?


End file.
